We steal our hours away like children
Scraping up minutes and moments
At the bottom of wishing wells.
You are the blood thump of my heart,
The heat of me when I am at my most fierce
In bed, or in battle.
When your slow hands traverse
The wide expanse of my flesh, I am remade
Into beautiful, peaceful, subordinate lust.
I am comfortable in your eyes,
The way you look at me, catalog me, suits me
And my primacy just right.
The time comes slow and leaves fast,
Too soon you are called away from my bed
Where I remain, hot and calling your name.